


Fairy Godmother

by vondrostes



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Harry, Feminine Harry, Friends to Lovers, Frottage, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Multi, Nonbinary Character, Other, Polyamorous Character, Threesome, Trans Character, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-21
Updated: 2020-01-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:35:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22352713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vondrostes/pseuds/vondrostes
Summary: “The guy you’re going out with,” Harry said. “Why was he so interested in me?”“We might have talked about you a bit,” Harris answered slowly. “While we were…in bed, I guess.”
Relationships: Harris Reed/Harry Styles, Harris Reed/Harry Styles/Original Male Character(s), Harry Styles/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 67





	Fairy Godmother

**Author's Note:**

> Twitter: @vondrostes & @vondrostesupd8s  
> Tumblr: @vondrostes  
> IG: @vondrostesupd8s

“I’ve been seeing this guy recently.”

Harry glanced up from where he had Harris’s bare foot propped up on his knee, the shimmering lavender nail polish on their first two toes already starting to dry. “Yeah?”

“Mhmm,” Harris confirmed. They felt themselves starting to blush a little as they continued. “He was surprised when I mentioned that I know you.”

“Do you name-drop me to your dates often?” Harry asked with a soft chuckle before looking down again to finish the remaining toenails.

“Sometimes,” Harris admitted. “It’s a good litmus test, you know? Like, if they react weirdly to it, I probably shouldn’t go out with them again.”

“So I assume he reacted well, then.”

“You could say that.” Harris was hedging because they knew they had a tendency to overshare, both with their dates and with Harry, even, and they were aware that they may have given slightly too much information away in this particular case. “He wanted to know if the rumors were true. About you, I mean.”

Harry didn’t even look up, just nudged Harris’s right foot out of the way before picking up the left to finish the job. “Which rumors would those be?”

“The ones about your sexuality? Maybe?” Harris held their breath to keep from twitching their feet out of Harry’s grip.

“Maybe or yes?” Harry replied in a soft voice. He still hadn’t looked up, and that was making Harris even more anxious about the whole situation.

“Yes,” Harris clarified. “I might have hinted that he was right to think that. Should I not have?”

Finally, Harry lifted his face to meet Harris’s eyes. “Didn’t we already have a whole conversation about how I’m not hiding anymore?”

Harris nodded quickly. “I just wasn’t sure—”

“Why was he so interested?”

“What?”

“The guy you’re going out with,” Harry said. “Why was he so interested in me?”

Harris’s blush went from a rosy pink to beet red in a matter of milliseconds. They’d been hoping to ease into this part of the story slowly, perhaps over a few more glasses of the champagne they’d both indulged in before camping on the bathroom floor with an assortment of self-care items, most of which they hadn’t even gotten around to using yet.

They hadn’t banked on Harry’s perceptiveness, but now they couldn’t see a way out of explaining what had happened without outright lying to Harry, which would only make things worse in the long run.

“We might have talked about you a bit,” Harris answered slowly. “While we were…in bed, I guess.”

The fact that Harry seemed to sleep with anyone and everyone he trusted not to run to the tabloids about it was an ill-kept secret amongst those who had any sort of relationship with him. Harris had fantasized on more than one occasion about finding themselves in that same situation, in the place of Sarah or Camille or any of the others, and when they’d found out that their date shared a mutual interest in Harry, well…. One thing had led to another.

Harris wasn’t ashamed that they found Harry attractive, nor were they specifically embarrassed about thinking about Harry while in bed with a man who hadn’t been shy about expressing his desire to watch Harry and Harris together. But confessing all that while face to face with Harry himself? That was a different story.

“Flattering things, I hope,” was Harry’s only reply, and for a moment, Harris thought the opportunity was lost. But then they glanced down, catching the hint of a smile that they knew meant ‘not now’ but not ‘never’.

“I could always introduce you two,” Harris volunteered, emboldened now by Harry’s ambiguously positive reaction. “I’m sure he’d be dying to meet you.” The innuendo wasn’t subtle, and Harris knew that Harry wouldn’t have any trouble discerning the real meaning of their words.

Harry’s smile widened a little bit more as he looked up. “Give it a couple more dates,” he said. “Then we’ll talk about it.”

But Harris really couldn’t wait that long when it was all said and done. Their second date with Girard came only a week and a half after their conversation with Harry, and the whole way through dinner they found themself practically squirming in their seat as they tried to suppress the urge to babble out the whole outlandish tale—and it was absurd, thinking about it now.

A fucking threesome with Harry Styles? It didn’t seem like it could ever be true.

Girard was kind enough that he didn’t comment on Harris’s plainly evident nerves until they were on the front doorstep to his flat, his keys in hand as he turned toward Harris with a questioning smile. “You sure you’re feeling all right?” he asked in a soft voice. “We don’t have to do this just because we did it last time. I can call you a cab if you’d rather.”

Harris shook their head adamantly. “I’m just—” They swallowed hard before continuing. “I’ll explain when we’re inside.”

Girard still looked mildly concerned as he opened the door to let Harris in, but he didn’t confront them again until they’d both made it to the entrance to his bedroom, at which point he positioned himself in the doorway with an arm out, blocking Harris from going any further. “All right,” he said firmly, “out with it, then.”

Harris sighed. “It’s going to sound crazy.”

Girard only lifted his eyebrows, clearly waiting for an explanation.

“Can we at least sit down first?” Harris tried, gesturing toward the bed that was partially obscured by Girard’s arm. “Have a glass of wine, maybe?”

“Fine.” Girard slipped out of the way and moved into the kitchen, allowing Harris entrance into his bedroom at last.

Once he was out of sight, Harris quickly kicked off their heels and began the arduous process of getting comfortable—which entailed stripping out of nearly every single article of clothing in their ensemble before bouncing down onto the mattress with a sigh, now dressed only in an oversized satin button-down blouse and a pair of tight briefs underneath. And socks, of course.

Girard still looked wary when he walked in a few minutes later with a glass of red wine in each hand. He offered one to Harris before setting his own down on the bedside table, and then climbed into bed alongside them as they slowly sipped at their drink.

“Out with it,” he said without prelude.

Harris choked a little on their last mouthful of wine as they lowered the glass with a hesitant expression. “You remember what we talked about last time?”

It took Girard a moment, but finally, he nodded.

Harry scooted a little closer before continuing. “I might have mentioned it to Harry the last time he was in town,” they explained.

Girard’s eyes widened by degrees. “Really?” he replied, reaching over at last to pick up his own glass again and raising it to his lips. “How did he take that?”

“Surprisingly well,” Harris told him with a breathy laugh. “He seemed interested, actually, in, uh…joining us maybe?”

“Really.”

Harris shrugged, not wanting to make any promises they couldn’t keep. “It’s nothing for sure,” they hedged, “but he said he was open to it.”

Suddenly, the wine glass was being plucked out of Harris’s hand without warning, and Girard was on top of them a moment later, pushing them down against the mattress. “Should we have a practice run, then?” Girard proposed. “Maybe I should do to you what we’re going to do to Harry when he finally joins us.”

Harris laughed, squirming a little underneath Girard for show. “How do you know we’d like the same things?” they asked. “Maybe he’s a top.”

Girard raised an eyebrow. “Is that what you’re hoping for?”

“Not really,” Harris admitted. They sort of found something strangely attractive about the idea that Harry was more like them: soft, feminine, submissive. But Harris was well aware that appearances weren’t everything, even if nine out of every ten people that Harry was sleeping with—that Harris was aware of—were tall, dark, and undeniably masculine. “I was kind of hoping to watch you fuck him, actually.”

“That’s what you want?” Girard asked. “To watch?”

Harris nodded eagerly. Girard leaned down and kissed them hard, erasing any other thoughts from their brain until he finally pulled away and gave them the chance to take another breath.

The fantasy became a routine of sorts after that. Harry wasn’t in London for nearly a month, and of course, Harris had the misfortune of flying to Milan again right as he was due back, so there was no opportunity to revisit the subject of the threesome that Harry had hinted he would be amenable to. And despite the fact that Girard brought up Harry every time they were in bed together, getting Harris off harder than they’d ever gotten off before, there was a part of their brain that only became increasingly more anxious about broaching the topic the longer the delay continued.

In the end, it was nearly three months before Harris saw Harry again, and at that point, they were so stressed with the amount of work on their shoulders that they didn’t even have the capacity to feel nervous about bringing it up.

Harry did look surprised, though, when Harris mentioned it as he was flipping through the portfolio of potential outfits Harris had put together for an upcoming music video.

Harris waited for Harry to say something, but when he didn’t, they cleared their throat and barreled onward, refusing to feel embarrassed about bringing it up. “If you changed your mind—or if it was just a joke or something—I get it, that’s fine.”

“It wasn’t a joke,” Harry said slowly. “I just didn’t think you’d actually take me up on it.”

Harris wasn’t sure how to take that, but they chose to ignore it in favor of focusing on the more important matter at hand. “Does that mean you’d still want to?”

Harry hummed quietly under his breath and flipped to the next page, scanning over a drawing of a two-piece glittery suit with flared trousers that Harris was particularly proud of. “Do you have a picture of him?”

Harris reached for their phone automatically. “Does your decision depend on what he looks like?” Harris wondered, hoping the question didn’t come across as judgmental as it might have looked on paper.

“No,” Harry replied casually. “I trust your taste; I’m just curious.”

Harris quickly thumbed through their gallery for a decent enough photo, and once they’d selected one, turned the screen toward Harry for his approval.

“He’s cute,” Harry decided after a few seconds’ worth of scrutiny. “What’s his name?”

“Girard,” Harris replied, before automatically adding, “with an ‘I’, not an ‘E’.”

“Noted,” Harry replied with a soft chuckle as he leaned back against the couch, propping up the portfolio against his bent knees once he’d changed positions. “Does he have time to swing by tonight?” he asked nonchalantly, as though that were the inevitable progression of their questioning, taking Harris completely by surprise.

They’d shown up at Harry’s house knowing that they’d eventually ask about the threesome at some point during their meeting, but they certainly hadn’t anticipated Harry initiating said threesome that very night. Fuck Girard, Harris thought; they were the one who didn’t have the time.

“I’ll ask,” was what came out of their mouth instead, of course, because Harris wasn’t known for setting aside pleasure to take care of business. This was a once in a lifetime opportunity, even. Work could wait.

If Girard had any previous plans, he dropped them without a thought as soon as Harris’s text went through. His response was immediate, with an ETA informing them that he’d be at Harry’s place within the hour.

There was a strange expression that came over Harry’s face as soon as Harris informed them of Girard’s reply. “I suppose we should discuss how things are going to go once he gets here,” he said, with an expectant look aimed toward Harris, who hadn’t anticipated being put on the spot without Girard there to take over.

“You’re the one with experience,” Harris pointed out without thinking. “In threesomes, I mean,” they added, a blush quickly blossoming on their cheeks.

Harry raised an eyebrow. “You’ve never had a threesome?” he asked.

Harris shook their head.

“Hell of a first, then,” Harry commented with a laugh. “All right, what would you do if it was just me and you, then, instead?”

“Go down on you, probably,” Harris answered honestly. “There’s a reason I made your trousers so tight last year.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Yeah, thanks for that,” he said. “What else?”

Harris shrugged. They’d discussed what felt like a thousand and one different scenarios with Girard over the past few months, but now that they were here in Harry’s living room with him, about to realize those fantasies for the first time, it was like their mind had gone abruptly blank.

“I guess I’d just want to watch you come,” they admitted after several more seconds had gone by in which Harry just stared at them unrelentingly waiting for an answer. “I always thought about it during your performances, when you’d—you know.” Harris didn’t think they had to explain in any further detail that the way Harry had moaned during Medicine had been something they didn’t think they’d ever get out of their head, especially not when Harry had practically fucked and sucked the mic stand and the mic itself every night in the process.

“What does Girard like to do in bed?” Harry asked, as casually as though he were inquiring about someone’s lunch preference.

Harris lifted their eyebrows. “A bit of everything, I guess,” they replied. “He doesn’t like to bottom, though.”

Harry raised his own eyebrows and mirrored Harris’s expression. “I assume that’s not an issue for you, seeing as you’re still together.”

Harris shook their head fervently. “Wouldn’t have it any other way,” they admitted.

If Harry had any other opinions on Girard’s aversion to bottoming, he didn’t make them known. And after that, it was right back to business, all the way up until Harris’s phone buzzed again nearly an hour later, signaling that Girard was waiting outside the gate.

To Girard’s credit, he didn’t react much at all when Harry was the one to greet him at the front door. Harris watched as the two of them exchanged polite pleasantries, and then watched some more as Harry closed the door behind Girard before pulling him in for deep kiss that ended with Girard’s hands under Harry’s thighs and Harry’s legs around his waist.

“Bedroom, then?” Harris suggested from where they were still sitting on Harry’s living room floor, pulling the pair’s attention over to them for the first time since Girard had arrived.

Harris wasn’t sure what to think about anything that had happened so far as the three of them slowly made their way upstairs with Harry leading the way. His bedroom was every bit as large as the rest of the house would seem to indicate, with a large king-sized bed in the middle dressed up in pristine white linens that Harris was half-hoping would be ruined by the evening’s end.

“Harris told me you like to call the shots,” Harry said in an unfamiliarly sultry tone to Girard as he pulled him inside.

“More often than not,” Girard replied easily. He caught Harris’s hand on the way in, tugging them in after him. When they reached the edge of the bed, Girard turned away from Harry and gently guided Harris down onto Harry’s bed instead. “Get undressed,” he ordered.

Harris had never obeyed so quickly in their entire life.

Harry was already well on his way to doing the same once Harris had freed themself of all of their clothing, leaving Girard the only one in the room who was fully dressed.

“Are you wearing lipstick?” Girard asked Harry, thumbing at his lip as he leaned forward to take a closer look.

Harry nodded silently.

Girard’s grip on Harry’s chin tightened ever so slightly. “I think Harris would look real pretty with some lipstick stains on their neck,” he said meaningfully.

Harris forced themself to relax as they waited for Harry to climb on top of them, their neck exposed when Harry leaned down to press his lips against bare skin. Girard knew that Harris’s neck was their weak spot, that they got hot and bothered just from a few hickeys here and there, and all Harris could do was lie back and take it as Harry mouthed roughly at their throat, hard enough to bruise.

The torment only went on for just over a minute, and then suddenly the pressure of Harry’s mouth was gone. Harris opened their eyes to find Girard standing over them both, his hand fisted in Harry’s hair as Harry’s mouth hung open in an unmistakable expression of bliss.

“Condoms?” Harry asked unceremoniously as soon as Girard let him go, his face returning to normal like a kitten who’d just been released after being scruffed.

Harris shook their head. “I wasn’t exactly expecting anything,” they said meaningfully, hoping that Girard wouldn’t push for them to do anything penetrative. As much as they found the idea of being in bed with Harry hot, they weren’t sure that they were ready to go much further than watching—at least the first time.

“I brought some,” Girard replied easily. “You need a minute to get ready?”

Harry nodded and carefully climbed off of Harris before making his way to the bathroom. Harris watched his ass as he went, noting the perfectly average length and circumference of his dick as he turned around, and then after the door was closed, turned their attention back to Girard, who was staring down at them with undisguised concern.

“What?” Harris demanded in a hushed tone.

“You’re not getting cold feet, are you?” Girard asked, matching their volume.

Harris shook their head. “I just wasn’t expecting it to be tonight,” they said defensively. And well, the truth of the matter was that they’d never really gotten over the slightly starstruck crush that they’d always had on Harry. There was something vaguely terrifying about being so vulnerable—the way Harris always felt with someone inside them—in front of someone that they so idolized. It was even worse when Harris contemplated Harry being the one to do it, even if the prospect was also strangely appealing at the same time.

Girard didn’t look reassured, but he turned away from Harris after that and busied himself by emptying the condoms from his pockets (there was an optimistically large quantity) before stripping down to just his boxer-briefs in anticipation of Harry’s return.

Harry was quick about it, to the benefit of Harris’s nerves, and he emerged from the bathroom only a few minutes later. “How do you want me?” he asked Girard, though his eyes moved toward Harris as soon as the question was out of his mouth.

Girard contemplated it for a moment. “Between Harris’s legs,” he said slowly, giving Harris ample time to protest. They didn’t. “I want you facing each other.”

Harris felt their cock twitch at the realization that Girard had remembered the most important part of their mutual fantasy: watching Harry come. Now Harris had the chance to see it, feel it, up close.

Harry got into position as he’d been asked, his touch gentle as he arranged his body so that he was bracketed by Harris’s much longer legs, their faces nearly touching as Girard finally climbed onto the bed behind him.

Harris could see every minute change in Harry’s expression as Girard fingered him open, could practically measure the dilation of his pupils as they expanded in response to the feeling of being stretched. Harris could feel Harry’s cock thickening up next to their own, pressed together between their bodies and stimulated only by the slight shifts in Harry’s position as Girard finally lined up his cock and pushed into him.

Harry let out a loud groan at the initial penetration and let his head fall onto Harris’s shoulder. Girard was quick to remedy that by grabbing Harry’s hair again with his free hand, yanking his head back up so that Harris could see every ounce of pleasure etched onto Harry’s features as Girard started up a slow, steady rhythm, quickly working up to something faster once Harry finally loosened up.

“Suppose it’s been a while?” Girard panted into Harry’s ear. “God, you’re fucking tight.”

Harry couldn’t answer except to let out a high-pitched whine. Harris could feel his cock leaking steadily now onto their belly as Girard fucked into him. Harris was hard now too, and they couldn’t breathe, didn’t want to, couldn’t think or feel or see anything but Harry’s face twisted up into something savagely beautiful and inhuman above them.

“Gonna come,” Harry finally bit out, and it was only a few seconds before Harris felt it flowing onto their stomach as Harry’s body seized up in orgasm.

Apparently satisfied that Harris had gotten what they wanted, Girard shoved Harry down against them so that the two were chest to chest, with Harris’s hard cock still trapped between them, rubbed raw against Harry’s belly as Girard pounded into Harry even harder despite the fact that he’d already come.

“Tell me when you’re close,” Girard told Harris, who nodded, still pinned under the deadweight of Harry’s limp form covering them.

The friction against their cock wasn’t much, but it didn’t matter with the memory of Harry’s face when he’d come still playing out against Harris’s eyelids, over and over again as Girard grunted loudly in their ear.

“Close,” Harris panted at last. They just needed something to push them over the edge.

That something ended up being Harry’s hand, snaking between their bodies to close around the base of Harris’s cock, pulling up and down in time with Girard’s increasingly frantic strokes. When Harris finally came, so did Girard, the tell-tale stuttering of his hips drawing to a standstill as come poured out of Harris’s cock to mix with the mess Harry had already left between their heaving bellies.

Once it was over, there was silence, mediated only by the sound of Girard flopping down onto the other side of the mattress with a quiet groan. Finally, Harry peeled himself off of Harris and rolled over into the space between Harris and Girard, ending half on top of the latter in the process.

“That was fun,” Harry replied chipperly, though he still sounded a bit out of breath. “We should definitely do that around.”

“I brought five condoms,” Girard volunteered with a hand thrown over his face in exhaustion. “But I don’t know how long it’ll be before I can get it up again.”

“That’s fine,” Harry said as he lifted himself up onto his elbows. He peered pointedly down at Harris. “You said something about wanting to go down on me, right?”


End file.
